Page 34 of Reign By Wrath

Saylor shrieked, trying to cover herself much too late. “Daddy!”

“Luna!”

“Alistair!”

“Buh-bye,” I sang, beating it out of the room. Saylor was hot on my heels.

Again Alistair had to chase her down to stop her from killing me. Again we both received a lecture on Burkhardts never making other Burkhardts their enemy. Again, my phone was taken from me and the picture deleted.

It was past two in the morning when Alistair dropped me off at Mom and Jack’s house. I waved him off, then went immediately for the garage. I loved sleeping in my old room after all that time I wasn’t welcome in it. My room would be even better if my guys were curled up on my bed, waiting for me.

We also spent too much time apart. That night, I was sleeping with them.

The ride to the beach house gave me thirty minutes of true alone time to think. I did have a plan to take down Everleigh, and it was a good one. The only problem was I had no idea what she was planning.

Purple flags, fires, and blackmailing Leon Dumont won’t work for her, so what would Everleigh do now? I had no delusions that she would give up on killing my father. The question was, what options did she have left?

I underestimated her once and it nearly got me and my boyfriends killed. This time, I had to be five, ten, twenty steps ahead of her, or I wouldn’t make it out alive.

My thoughts scattered throughout the whole ride, fighting to come together and form something sensible through the late-night, early-morning fog clouding my mind.

I turned onto the dirt path, driving up to the cute little bungalow and parking next to Lucien’s car. Seeing it reminded me that I never finished sending that text. It also reminded me the list was in Ronin’s car.

Groaning, I trudged up the sandy path. How did my day start with chasing Everleigh out of Toussaint’s with her tail between her legs and end with Saylor beating the shit out of me? I wouldn’t lie, it rocked my confidence a bit. This fight with Everleigh was one to the death. It required all my attention. Fighting Saylor at the same time was a distraction I couldn’t afford.

Burkhardts don’t make enemies of Burkhardts.

Saylor didn’t give the impression that she’d trade that promise for her first one—that she’d make me regret the day I was born.

I snuck the spare key out from under a porch chair and let myself in. A sweet smell of sand and cedar washed over me. I didn’t notice how good Adonis’s place smelled the first time I was there. I was too busy internally freaking out at the two of us alone in his place while I nursed a massive crush on my professor.

But his place did smell nice. And it was warm. And cozy. And the kind of place I pictured living in when my life returned to a semblance of normal. On my craziest days, I pictured living in exactly this place... with him.

My guys were scattered all over the place. The bungalow had four rooms, which left one for Adonis. One for Victor. One for Wilder, who would only sleep behind locked doors. One for Lucien, who didn’t mind sleeping on a foldout couch in Adonis’s office. The couch for Rafael. And Cato slept outside.

My muzzled love started a fire in the bathroom two hours after moving in. Adonis promptly kicked him out, and Cato made it as far as the hammock on the back porch.

Who will I curl up with tonight?

I crept through the hall, tiptoeing to the kitchen. The whole thing with Saylor took so long there was no trace of my delicious dinner left in my stomach. Rafael took over cooking since moving in, so the fridge should be filled with restaurant-quality leftovers.

I popped open the door, already salivating at all the containers. “Score.”

“Seriously.”

I jerked, whirling around.

“If they turn his suspension into an expulsion, he’ll have a job as my personal chef, no problem.”

Adonis leaned against the kitchen counter, eating out of a container. Boxers concealed the most tempting parts of him and nothing else. Fridge light chased back the shadows on his bare chest, skating over him like my hands did that day in his office. Was it really such a short time ago since we had sex? So much had happened since then. It felt like another lifetime.

“Hey,” I whispered, mindful of my sleeping boyfriend on the couch. “What are you doing in the dark?”

“Didn’t want to wake anyone. Try the smoked salmon pasta,” he said. “The first bite made me cry.”

Chuckling, I took it out and stuck it in the microwave. I couldn’t tell what Adonis was thinking behind his calm and steady eating. I wished I could peek into his mind.

I felt his presence all around me like a living thing—teasing me, seducing me, comforting me. I missed him while I was floating around in my temporary prison.

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